HUNGRY GERALD

Besides BSK, there has been a happy constant in HG’s long life–Pancakes. Yes, HG loves pancakes. The passion began when HG was eight years old. The hungry little guy would run home (2751 Claflin Avenue in the Kingsbridge neighborhood of The Bronx) from nearby PS 86 on Reservoir Avenue for noonday lunch. Most days, HG’s late beloved Mom, Ida Kopkind Freeman, would prepare buckwheat pancakes smothered in melted butter and Aunt Jemima syrup. (Whole milk, rich in butterfat, was the accompaniment).  Radio was tuned to the Yiddish language station, WEVD (The station’s politics were Socialist–the EVD stood for Eugene Victor Debs, the heroic Socialist leader and Presidential candidate). Sun lit up the dinette windows. Schoolboy HG experienced bliss. HG rarely eats pancakes for breakfast these days. However, BSK often makes savory pancakes for dinner (” Supper”  on Prince Edward Island where HG/BSK spend many months at their spectacular sea view oceanfront home). BSK made a lusty batter containing shredded cabbage, garlic scapes, parsley and juicy sea scallops from nearby Julio’s Seafood Shop. BSK sizzled spoonfuls of batter in sizzling olive oil making cakes with lacy edges and soft interiors. Topped with Bulldog Sauce, they were a tasty treat–HG ate many and drank Pinot Noir. Boyhood bliss was repeated. Brandade is a favorite HG dish–salt cod that is desalinated in many changes of water, garlic, potatoes, olive oil, bit of broth, splash of milk or cream–the mix is pureed and a warm mound is gilded with a bit more olive oil and crowned with chopped parsley. HG likes an emphatic amount of garlic in the brandade. If there are leftovers, BSK forms the brandade into small pancakes, fries them in olive oil and serves the good things as a dinner appetizer with PEI mustard pickle (BSK’s brandade fritters are similar to the codfish fritters hawked at Rome’s Campo De Fiori). Some years ago in Santa Fe, HG/BSK dined at a nearby neighbor’s beautiful home. Before HG went to the dining table, HG drank some glasses of icy vodka and watched a dazzling sunset (Yes, HG drank strong spirits in those days. No more. HG now drinks only wine–sparingly) . Dinner was a surprise–stacks of buttermilk pancakes drenched with melted butter and Canadian maple syrup—rashers of crisp, thick cut bacon and a baguette plus sweet butter.  It all went nicely with a French red Bordeaux. HG/BSK have to try this for dinner one night–but no vodka preface.